


１０８

by bleuest



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Bells, Fireworks, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, New Year's Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:50:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9134710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuest/pseuds/bleuest
Summary: the toll of one hundred and seven bells in the span of eighteen minutes, and the one hundred and eighth on the stroke of midnightto purify your sins,a flea says.but he doesn't give a damn about the whole thing, really, not when all these red white gold purple blue green fireworks are popping sparks and showering light streaks, but somehow the flea's buzzing becomes more important than all the pretty colours.or maybe it's just the flea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> be warned: the story somehow goes kinda ~~pretty very really~~ off the tangent so  
>    
>    
>  「除夜の鐘」  
> 
> 
> joya no kane i.e. new year eve's bell is a new year's tradition in japan where 107 bells are rung on the 31st and the final bell is rung on the 1st. supposedly, the 108 sins committed throughout the year are purified one by one by each ring of the bell. the bells are rung in temples and some bells are so loud and low the sound apparently can carry up to 20 miles

２０１６／１２／３１  
１１：４２　ＰＭ

—blurrily reads the white text resting against the non-descript dark of a phone’s lock screen as the first of one hundred and eight bells rings. The phone’s owner lets the hand holding it dangle loosely over the railing and looks at the night sky. The screen blacks out and disappears into a pocket.

“So it’s started, hasn’t it?” Bright blue and gold explodes in the corner of his eye. He ignores it, firmly setting his eyes forwards. “One hundred and eight sins…”

An insincere chuckle. A streak of green light scatters into gold and green.

“Well, this is embarrassing. How do I say this… if a bystander were to see everything I did this year, they would definitely say that I have committed each and every one of those sins, no? Just like any other human.

“However, it’s different with gods. While humans have the tendency to rationalise their actions and separate them into right and wrong, the same does not hold for gods.

“Do you know why?”

The raven continues speaking over the bell, over the bursts of red and purple and white just over his head.

“Because gods can do no wrong. The terms ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ do not apply to them. They are free to do as they _wish_ …” here he trails off.

“But you won’t agree, will you?” A rhetorical question voiced, a hand withdrawn to push against the railing, a foot stepping back, a twirl—an arm held out parallel to the ground, an open—and empty—palm. He relaxes and breathes out lung poison.

“Well then, what sins did _you_ commit this year, Shi—“ the ring of a bell, a series of fireworks exploding, and a particularly loud gust of the wind drown out his voice. His eyes’ focus sharpens on the speaker’s lips and reads the mouthed syllables clearly.

And there he stands. The arm he held out has probably started aching—if so, it doesn’t show in face. He brings his open palm to his chest in an overtly dramatic gesture and walks.

“These one hundred and eight sins purified now—how long do you think it would take for a person to commit all of them again? For some, perhaps well into the year. For others, a month or two at most. Year after year after year—it doesn’t stop. A human is born. After living an average lifespan of approximately seventy-one years—and sinning all the while—they die.

“Seventy-one years, ne. Seven thousand and six hundred sixty-eight bells in a lifetime heard. Seven thousand and six hundred sixty-eight sins committed and ‘purified’ in a lifetime.”

He stops speaking. Three of those seven thousand and six hundred sixty-eight bells ring. Purple and gold bursts— _freezes—_ showers down the buildings. He begins humming a melancholy tune.

“You sure do talk a lot.”

The tune dies away. Eyes flutter in faux-innocence. “Do I, now? Why, what a compliment, Shizu-chan! How gracious of you.”

Somehow, not an ounce of sarcasm can be heard.

“It wasn’t a compliment, flea.”

Said flea’s eyelids droop as his gaze slid away from his face. “Oh, wasn’t it? I couldn’t tell the difference.”

Shizuo snorts before exhaling smoke. “Bullshit.”

_Ah, why am I even here?_

On the way back home from a detour after a cigarette run, he caught a whiff of that flea-stink. On impulse, Shizuo tracked it to an abandoned building, easily walked up the stairs, only to have the rage slowly igniting in his chest die down at the sight of a black slim figure leaning against the railing. At his steps, the figure turned around—

— _porcelain face black strands ruffled by the breeze shadowed garnet eyes brightens momentarily reflecting the red and white flowers blooming across the skies—_

—and Shizuo decided to stay. The flea ignored him at first, turned back to the railing even as Shizuo walked up to him _(just to see what’s so fascinating the flea can’t stop looking at it, really)_ and took a spot mere meters away from him.

“Why are you even here?”

The blond cut him a glare. A fearsome glare which would send even the dumbest thug from the other end of an alley scurrying off into the other direction. A glare which has no effect on the man a few feet away from him but the minute widening of his smirk.

A bell rings. Dots of red and gold freeze for a millisecond before falling in streams of light. The flea’s eyes reflect a golden streak.

 _Perhaps it’s his psychic powers,_ Shizuo muses.

“Let me guess—Kasuka-kun is attending a party hosted by his colleagues, Celty told you that Shinra prepared a surprise for her, Tanaka-san invited you to a bar but you don’t like getting drunk, and no-one else is close enough to invite you.”

 _It’s his psychic powers,_ Shizuo decides. He throws what he hopes is a sufficiently suspicious look at the flea.

Seeing the look, the flea gives an exasperated sigh. Holds a finger against his forehead and says, “It’s not that hard to figure out, Shizu-chan.”

No, Shizuo guesses. Not really. _But it still doesn’t explain_ —

“But why are you _here?_ ” _Why did you stay, why aren’t you chasing me away,_ lies underneath the question. _With me,_ remains unsaid.

He doesn’t know. So he tells the flea that.

“I don’t know.”

The flea raises an incredulous eyebrow. “You don’t—“ The flea sneezes. And sneezes. And _sneezes_.

 _Those are cute sneezes,_ a voice prompts in the back of his head. Shizuo proceeds to stuff the voice behind the back of his head because he did not just think that up on his own. Lowering his cigarette, he scans the flea’s outfit, and notices—

—that he wears the exact same attire in winter as he does in summer.

Of course he does. _You do, too,_ that unwelcome voice prompts again and he shoves it back with much more force than he did before.

“Don’t worry, Shizu-chan.” He looks up to see crescent-curved eyes and a smile. “I won’t go around harassing people at the first stroke of midnight.”

 _Ha!_ “So you _do_ admit that it’s—“

“Of course, if they were asking for it themselves then I can’t help but help them out, can I? That’s how generous I am.”

“Generous,” Shizuo repeats. He scrubs the butt of his cigarette on the wall beneath the railing, stamping the dying flame out. It leaves a scorch mark and a slight dent imprinted with ashes in the cement.

“Generous,” the flea confirms. “Is that too big of a word for a protozoan to understand? Come to think of it, did you understand anything I’ve said?”

“Probably not,” Shizuo answers. _Wait, that’s not quite right._ He _has_ been listening. “I don’t understand _you_.”

A small upward twitch of the lips. “Not many do.”

The blond glances sideways. Even with the slight smile in place, Izaya’s expression is completely unreadable.

The fireworks stop long enough for another bell to clearly sound across the district. Trails of smoke remain, leaving grey streaks against the midnight sky.

“B-flat, ne. _Gan-gan_ ,” Izaya murmurs softly. Shizuo blinks at the non-sequitur. “Well, tell me, then. What do you think about these bells?”

Shizuo shrugs. “I don’t. It’s just there, I guess. I mean, I know they were supposed to erase your sins and things, but I don’t really believe that. If you did something wrong, you gotta apologise. Bells aren’t gonna do shit about what you did.”

“Such a pragmatic mindset! Ladies love that in men, don’t they?” Izaya coos.

“And—and you do that.” Shizuo frowns.

“Do what?”

“That thing where you randomly change the subject. You don’t make sense,” Shizuo accuses.

“I wasn’t changing the subject, Shizu-chan. I was merely commenting on your views. The New Year symbolises a new start, and having all your sins erased and starting over with a new slate gives people the motivation to try to do good and not commit any sins. It’s similar to making New Year’s resolutions. But as I mentioned, it only lasts around several weeks before they revert back to their previous state.”

“What even counts as a sin,” Shizuo grumbles irritatedly. “One hundred and eight is a lot.”

“Supposedly the number stands for every sin committed in the past, present, and future through the five senses and the consciousness which is either internally or externally produced, and differentiated by whether they are painful, neutral, or pleasant.”

Before he could get in a “hah?!” Izaya continues.

“There is also another list, which encompasses things like envy, hypocrisy, masochism, arrogance, manipulation,” he pauses to take a breath. His smirk takes on a vindictive edge. “Wrath, anger, rage, violence, hurting others… to name just a few.”

The sound of warped metal was eclipsed by another round of fireworks. A bell rings distantly. Izaya notices anyway.

“Ouch,” he says mockingly.

* * *

Though the display of _violence_ was expected, Shizuo has been surprisingly docile tonight. Could it be that—

“Was beating up less people one of your resolutions, Shizu-chan?”

A short chuckle. “Nah, not anymore. It was, but then you—“ Shizuo looks away. Is that the hint of a blush Izaya spots?

_Shizu-chan is cute._

As a not-awkward-but-not- _that-_ comfortable not-silence settles over them, Izaya turns and looks up, letting his shoulder blades lie against the now slightly crooked railings. The sparks of two fireworks jump and the waxing crescent _(the ugly child of a star)_ twinkles its eyes and smiles upon them.

Izaya thinks. He feels an oncoming chill and tightens his jacket.

He takes a deep breath of the lingering smell of saltpetre and residual sulfur, and thinks.

He thinks some more. He thinks, then takes out his phone and presses the lock button—

 

２０１６／１２／３１  
１１：５９　ＰＭ

 

 _—_ and watches—

 

２０１７／０１／０１  
１２：００　ＡＭ

 

—as the year changes.

Izaya tilts his head to see Shizuo gaping at him.

“Okay, how did you do that? Were you counting the bells—“

Izaya stops thinking.

He does.

(he leans forward and tiptoes and presses his lips to the corner of Shizu-chan’s mouth and circles an arm around his shoulder and steadies himself and he feels Shizu-chan tense but he ignores it because he’s not flying halfway back to Shinjuku right now and)

 

* * *

_(the last bell tolls)_

* * *

 

Izaya _kisses_ Shizu-chan, gently moving his mouth against the other’s and nibbling the slightly-but-not-too-chapped bottom lip, swiping his tongue under the upper as Shizu-chan takes a startled breath. He breathes in cigarette smoke, and when Shizu-chan starts to tentatively move his mouth too he breathes in _Shizu-chan_ and when he feels a hand— _that has pulled stop signs, thrown vending machines, crushed bones to dust—_ settle on the back of his head and grip his hair—

 

* * *

  _(in that moment, all is right in the world)_

* * *

 

The fireworks are deafeningly loud— _or is it the thumping in his chest—_ but he couldn’t see any in the sky, just these sudden flashes of bright orange. Then he realises that he had closed his eyes. There aren’t violins sounding in the air, either, though ironically, the first few bars of _La Campanella_ _has_ been stuck in his head since he went to that café in the afternoon, a constant background music to the blasts and sizzles of those too pretty (and dying) fire flowers, so he supposes it’s close enough, or at the _very_ least, definitely more than his previous kisses with nameless dull forgettable—

Izaya loses his train of thought as fingers caress his lower cheek. He allows his eyes to open and is greeted with an oddly tender look on Shizu-chan’s visage. His glazed eyes come back into focus when Izaya places his own hand above Shizu-chan’s against his cheek. For a moment, they linger in that position—Izaya ignores the bright colours flashing everywhere and nowhere because (in that moment) Shizu-chan is _every_ thing and continued to stare at him, panting small puffs of warmth as he tries to regain his breath.

 

* * *

  _(just for a few more moments)_

* * *

 

Then he lets his hand drop and pulls away and falls back on his feet.

“For good luck, ne? Happy New Year, Shizu-chan! I’d tell you to try to _don’t sin and_ _stay pure_ , but I guess monsters don’t quite have the self-control to do that. Have fun!”

Izaya has skipped past half of the stairs when the sound of Shizu-chan snapping out of his confusion reached him.

 _“I_ _―ZA_ _―YAAAA_ _―_ ” a thunderous roar sounded, eclipsing the still-popping fireworks.

Izaya giggles. “Silly Shizu-chan.”

 _Silly and cute,_ he decides.

Resolutely ignoring the burning in his cheeks (one cheek somehow feels hotter than the other) nor the tingling in one of his hands, Izaya hums a tune under his breath and skips merrily out of the building.

 

* * *

 

_(what was that?)_

**Author's Note:**

>   * the list of [108 ](http://www.mettahu.blogspot.com/2013/12/memories-of-japan-joya-no-kane-ringing.html)[sins](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/108_\(number\))
>   * i had [this ](http://www.zen-shop.net/Joya-no-kane.html)in the background for the first half an hour of writing this
>   * _la campanella_ means "the little bells" in italian, [the piano ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIxGUAnj46U) & [the violin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dr2E-5ACa-Q)
>   * gan-gan ガンガン is the japanese onomatopoeia for low-sounding bells ( ~~and headaches~~ )
>   * the noragami reference is pretty obvious for those who read/watched it, but there are two other references. one is from a paragraph from a book, and another is from the song lyrics of an anime ost by sayuri
>   * if some bits were confusing, it's okay and i'm sorry because it confuses me too, really, they just go off into tangents everywhere and the end doesn't even really have anything to do with the start
>   * this is kinda unnecessary but 
> 



End file.
